Twas The Night Before
by solista
Summary: Christmas at Lancer


**Twas The Night Before**

The fire had burned down in the grand fireplace situated in the great room of the Lancer hacienda. Silence ruled the night and a chill began to creep in upon the man ensconced in the over-large leather chair.

In his hand was a half full glass of the finest Scottish whiskey money could buy, Murdoch Lancer may be a money pinching Scot by birth, but he indulged in this one thing from the home country.

The drink was forgotten as the man's pale blue eyes searched in the flame of the burning log, for what, was his own undisclosed quest.

He heard not a sound, but the crackle of the dying fire. The scent of the evergreen tree filling the corner of the great room invaded his nose with the smells of life and the wildness of his ranch, christened, Lancer.

The naming of the ranch, Lancer, fit the wildness of the valley. The strength of the name gave no quarter to failure. The immigrant and his new bride came to build something, a legacy of love and fortitude.

Together they started the legacy with the announcement of a first-born child of Lancer…with a shift of his leg and a groan of the leather chair, Murdoch Lancer shut out the pain which followed but a few short months later.

The joy of a son for Lancer was closed to him as the death of his soul mate and loving wife, and the kidnapping of his son to Boston, by Catherine's father, closed a heart filled with love and bliss to one of cold, dark days and nights.

The land kept the man alive and a promise to retrieve his son and his legacy kept his heart from complete shut-down.

He had a mission and Harlan Garrett of Boston would redefine the word stubborn when he associated the word with Murdoch Lancer.

But that would never come to pass as the miles and the finances played with a grieving husband and father, to accumulate in failure.

 ***L***

A soft step into the room had the man sit up and glance to the doorway, "Who's there?"

The shadow pulled up into a standstill, for just a moment Murdoch thought it was a trick of his eyes creating a phantom in the dark, "are you real or just a spirit?"

The soft drawl from the dark had a touch of a laugh, "ya talkin' bout that story Scott was readin' tonight, Ol' Man, or'd ya have too much o' that sippin' liquor you an' Scott are so fond of."

"Johnny, son, what are you doing up, it's nearly two in the morning," Murdoch sat up higher in the chair.

With loving and curious eyes, he watched his younger son step over to the Christmas tree and bending down gently placed wrapped gifts under its branches.

In a fluid turn the young man stepped silently over to the sitting man, gently tapping his father's booted foot, so he could sit on the over-sized ottoman, he faced his father and reached for the glass of whiskey, "what you doin' up so late. "'Cordin' ta Scott, Santa won't stop if'n ya ain't all snug in yer bed fast asleep," a small chuckle was silenced as Johnny sipped the whisky and handed the glass back to his father's large hands.

Murdoch gave his impertinent son an indulgent smile as he accepted his drink safely back into his hand, "and what of you mi hijo."

Giving his father the grin and smile reserved for those he loved, "ah ya know Santa don't come ta kids like me. 'Sides, I ain't never had dealin's with tha man before, don't 'spect he got down ta Mexico very often," with a dip of his eyes he hid the sadness and longing showing in the deep blue depths.

Murdoch sat forward and placed a work calloused hand on his son's thigh, "Johnny, I know you lost so much…"

Locking eyes with his father, "Murdoch, don't. I got along ok, an' if ya never had it before, ya didn't miss it."

"Didn't miss what?" The voice coming into the room queried as both men looked up and around.

 ***L***

Johnny gave a full smile, and if one looked close, showing the love and affection of brother to brother and friend to friend that no man would openly say aloud, "Scott," with a raised brow and a commanding voice Johnny reprimanded his older brother, "whatcha doin' up. Turning to their father, "Murdoch guess Santa ain't comin' ta none o' tha Lancers tonight," Johnny dipped his head, chin to chest with a forlorn sigh.

Scott stepped further into the room and made his way to the over-large, colorfully adorned Christmas tree and deposited his gaily wrapped gifts under its green boughs.

As he straightened and turned he grinned at his 'little' brother, his hand up and one slender finger pointing up, "ah, I have it on good authority that the "big" man will be coming," moving to sit beside his brother on the ottoman, Johnny scooted to one side as Scott nudged him with a firm but gentle smack to his shoulder, "these little 'trinkets' are just between us."

With a slant of his blond-haired head he drilled his 'little' brother with grey-blue eyes, "you have been good, haven't you 'boy'?"

Murdoch grinned at his son's antics and suppressed a sigh as his thoughts turned to the 'what-ifs' and the 'should-have-beens' of the past.

Johnny's dark-haired head came up and he sent a smirk and a deep-blue eyed glance at his father on his way to tilting his head and grinning at his 'older' brother, "I'm always good," the full toothed grin lit up the dark room, "at one thing or tha other, Boston."

Murdoch cleared his throat, "well yes, we are sure you are mi hijo, but it is late and…," interrupted by "OH's" from both sons the father stopped, "what?"

Johnny turned deep blue eyes to his father, Scott's had locked on as well and in both eyes Murdoch saw the longing and the mischievous glints.

"Ah.," Johnny started and Scott finished, "we thought you would regale us of your Christmas's in Scotland."

"Yeah," Johnny quipped back, "what was it like back in tha 'old' country."

Murdoch smiled an indulgent smile at his sons, "I told you both some earlier," with a stern looked that softened, "before you retired earlier."

Johnny shifted his leather clad butt on the ottoman which moved him closer to his brother, "yeah but, that was when T'resa was sittin' in," with a glance to Scott, then back, "we wanna hear some o' tha 'good' stuff."

Scott cleared his throat as he bumped shoulders with Johnny, "yes sir, after all you were a virile young man at onetime, correct me if I am wrong." Murdoch's eyes took in both sons and he smiled, "yes son, I was once 'young' and I did some 'very' good stuff."

 ***L***

At the cock's crow, Teresa had risen and dressed then made her way down the back stairs to the kitchen, "good morning, Maria, Merry Christmas."

As she donned her apron she noticed the long-time Lancer housekeeper and much loved friend with a wistful smile on her face, "what?"

A finger to her lips, Maria took her ninas hand and pulled her to the great room, "look," she whispered.

Teresa's lips turned up into a toothy grin, for in various positions around the room, were the men of Lancer.

Murdoch, long legs stretched out on the ottoman was snuggled under a brightly woven Indian blanket, one of a dozen Johnny had bought to 'help' out a close friend.

Scott was sprawled out on the big flowered sofa, the proper and rigid Bostonian gentleman relaxed as much as any common man could be, also huddled under a brightly woven Indian blanket. His mouth open, with a snore.

Johnny was on the floor, in front of the, now almost nonexistent fire in the fireplace. The top half of his body was draped over an edge of the ottoman, one hand resting on one leg of his father and the other curled up under his cheek, an unopened Christmas gift beside him.

The two women took in the sight of the men and smiled, Teresa felt Marias hand on her shoulder and she placed her small one over that of her mamacita, "it's a Christmas wish come true," she whispered to the older woman.

Then the silence was broken as the two women, startled, gasp. The kitchen door had slammed back against the wall and a shouted query of "where is everybody," echoed from the kitchen.

Johnny's head jerked up as his right hand went for the absent gun on his right hip, instead knocking the unopened gift across the floor.

Murdoch woke with a start and nearly kicked his younger son in the head as his legs found no purchase in the air.

Scott sat bolt up-right and wiped a hand down his face, the blanket falling around his hips as his eyes glanced around in confusion for what had alarmed him.

Jelly Hoskins, handy man, jack of all trades, a pillar of wisdom and friend, gently pushed the women blocking the entrance to the great room, "whatcha all lookin' at?"

Maria waved her wooden spoon, inches from smacking the loud intruder, and turned, "why you so ruidosamente," she ground between her teeth.

His grizzled face turned up to the woman and his mouth opened then shut like a fish out of water, "don't know what that word means, but 'spect it's not good."

Maria turned and grumbling in barely heard words, left the room to return to her kitchen and preparing breakfast for the men of Lancer, her familia.

Theresa pouted at the older man, "it's just, well there was a moment," the petite woman threw up her hands, "oh nothing Jelly."

As she followed Maria into the kitchen, Jelly rubbed a hand over his beard and shook his head, "never will understand women folk," considering the room he saw the state of the men and smiled.

"Mornin' Murdoch, Scott, Johnny," as the older man made his way to the fireplace, "women, can't understand 'em an' don't never get 'em mad atcha. Whyd't anyone poke up this fire, got a good chill goin' on in here." At the silence around him Jelly gave the now flaming log a final poke and stood up, replacing the tool.

Murdoch ran a hand down his face, Scott looked as if he had been on an all-night drunk and Johnny lay back across the ottoman, "well ya all gonna just sit there, it's Christmas Morning. Got's lot's ta do."

Murdoch held up a hand, "wait Jelly. I haven't even had my first cup of coffee."

Jelly stood, rocking on his feet and grasp both hands on his suspender straps. His chin stuck out as he glanced around, "what cha do all night or did ya not even find yer beds?"

Scott stood and bent his back to release a tight joint, a satisfying 'crack' brought a smile to his face, "gettin' old brother," Johnny quipped with a muffled voice.

Ignoring his brother Scott replied to the handy-man/friend, "we, myself and my smart-mouthed little brother, have been enthralled at the capers of our father in old Scotland."

With a muffled add on from Johnny, "yeah, tha Ol' Man was one right wild card."

Murdoch, harrumphed as he stood, his knee giving Scott's cracking back a run for its money, "whoa, hope I ain't inherited what you two got," Johnny ground out.

Bending down to his younger son, "give it time son, it catches up to us all," stepping around his half reclining son Murdoch shook the rafters with his bellow, "Maria, coffee, por favor."

Scott smiled at his father's retreating back, "I second that."

Johnny raised his head and smiled as his father and brother left the room in search of manna from the gods, turning to look up at Jelly, "whatcha' doin' up so early anyway."

"Well, I reckon I had sumpthin' ta do 'fore ya all got caught up in unwrappin' all these here presents," the older man looked at the younger man, "I know ya told me ya didn't have much truck with Christmas growin' up in Mexico so's I... well I..," as the Jelly fought for the right words he thrust a small package wrapped in plain brown paper into Johnny's hands, "here, I gotcha' a little…"

Johnny sat up and grasp the package, unrealized emotions took over his heart and he bit his bottom lip, words eluded him, "Jelly…"

Taking a back straight stance, "it ain't much so don't go gettin' all excited, just saw it an' well, it was just you, ya know."

Sitting the package gently on the ottoman, Johnny crabbed his way over to the Christmas tree and sorting through the various boxes he pulled one out and stood.

Turning around he approached the older man, "I don't do figurin' out what people want too good, but…an' I never had many true friends," meeting the still bright eyes of Jelly, "I wanna thank you for being there when I need ya, an' tryin' your best ta keep me toein' tha line 'round here, well…"

Thrusting the package into the gnarled hands of his friend, "thanks Jelly, an' Merry Christmas."

At the sound of his family returning with steaming cups of coffee, Johnny gave Jelly a day brightening smile.

 ***L***

The fire in the great fireplace had burned down to glowing embers, the leather chair squeaked as its occupant shifted his solid but large frame.

A glass of Scotch whiskey grasped in one large work hardened hand, his other grasp a silver framed photograph. Taking a small sip his blue eyes studied the people captured for all time by the invention of a marvelous device.

His legacy stared back at him. His eldest tall, ramrod straight, a serious visage captured on his face with just a slight lift to his lips.

Following the arm of his first-born son, led him to his second son, younger by just a few odd years. With a grin, Murdoch took another sip of his drink.

This son, darker in hair color and more casually dressed had been captured with a mischievous smirk to his full lips, his eyes, though you couldn't see the deep blue shading of his eyes, none the less sparkled with barely restrained energy.

His wild boy, held in check by his more structured brother, would fulfill the long hoped for legacy he had started with Catherine, then continued with Maria.

Through blood, sweat and tears Lancer, the man, had endured and now Lancer the legacy would continue.

 **Merry Christmas**


End file.
